[perniciouspotter]

wrongdeor​:

Severus didn’t miss the near slip-up, but far from surprised he was bracing for it. He was ready for this to be the most unpleasant encounter Potter could make, and from experience that was a rather tall order but entirely achievable for the twat he knew — what was unexpected instead was the correction. Severus, graciously, pretended not to notice. ‘ Potter, ’ he said in a clipped tone. He nodded in return. 

He stepped inside, paused in the entrance hall and turned to look at his enemy patient. With a slanted brow, Severus said, ‘ Surprised? War makes for strange bedfellows, Potter. A halfblood with a muggle name would have more to lose and to gain in this war than a pureblood boy with a trust fund. And what I want hardly overlaps with what I need to do. ’ He jerked his chin towards the injured wrist. ‘ You need that hand to fight, and we need you on the field. Ergo, here I am. ’ He lifted a shoulder, the bag shifting with the movement, vials jostling beneath the fabric. He didn’t respond to whether or not he can cure him. That remained to be seen.

Severus looked at the wizard for a moment. Head tilted slightly to the side. ‘ And I never liked unequal fights, if you recall. ’ That was you, Potter. He nodded down the hall, towards what he believed was the living room. ‘ Lead the way. ’

.

The second Severus opened his mouth, James felt like breaking. That had happened a lot since he’d gotten out of the dungeons and Lily had left him. Little things would make him want to throw something or sob or a mixture of both - like seeing the mug she used to use in his cupboards or watching Garnet snub him as though the cat never even realized he’d been gone. Or, like the other day, when Remus had been visiting him at Mungo’s and said Lily’s name and James had told him to watch his damn mouth as though he’d been called something crude.

But all Severus needed to do was talk in that slow, annoying drawl of his and remind James of all the reasons Lily had broken up with him without even doing it on purpose. Or, knowing Snape, maybe it was on purpose and the wix was just so fucking smart that it hardly sounded that way. “Convenient timing to realize that about yourself,” James said with a new dullness to his voice that hadn’t been there before. His head suddenly felt stuffy like he was holding back tears, but he just ground down his back teeth until it went away. Maybe later he’d curl up with Sirius and let himself cry again, but there was no fucking way Severus Snape would see how much this - Lily, Severus, their friendship, everything - was affecting him.

“Voldemort promotes equality in your little circle of friends?” James quipped back with his eyebrows raised, a mean smirk on his face, using the name intentionally to try and get a rise. He turned and led the way to his living room where a plush maroon couch and two armchairs sat around a coffee table. There was a multi-patterned blanket on the back of one of the chairs. It felt warm in here, despite James’ lack of it.

He gingerly sat on the couch, perching himself forward because leaning back would’ve caused his joints to ache and pain to hiss from between his teeth. Gently, he lowered his wrist to rest against his knee. “So, what kind of process are we lookin’ at?” Severus could kill him, if he wanted to. It would be easy. James would do whatever he was told and, if he were about to be poisoned, he’d have no clue until it happened. 

[wrongdeor]

Severus flinched at the flagrant use of the Dark Lord’s name from little old Potter, no less — who do you think you are?! An old thought that sprang to the top of his mind every time he had the opportunity to be in the arrogant boy’s presence for more than a moment, and thus all the more easily dismissed for it’s recurrence. Potter held himself above the rest, as always, but from the way he carried himself it seemed to Severus he was merely keeping his head above water.

Severus tipped his chin up as he followed Potter to the living room. Shoulders squared and back straight. ‘ Equality is unattainable in the wizarding world. The Dark Lord provides opportunity, which is more than what the Order could say for itself. ’ Severus was a practical man and he took the practical path — in most things. It all fell through in the end for him but being a Death Eater was, and still is, the practical choice.

Severus watched Potter move like every shift pained him. He took mental notes of his observations. He was silent for a long moment after the question was posed, before he sat down on the armchair besides Potter, legs crossed at the knee, and set his bag of brews by his feet. ‘ The process will be a month long, at least, ’ he started. ‘ I’ll administer a potion and spell three times a week. 12 to 24 sessions in total — after that, everything that could be fixed has been fixed. ’ He tilted his head to the side slightly. ‘ Once we begin there can be no delays or breaks. This is a delicate process. The margin for error is very slim. ’

[wrongdeor]

melancolialunar​:

Remus was stuck in a hazy existence, as if the very edges of life had been blurred out from the pain. It was difficult to care about anything when his entire body was busy putting itself back together. It was almost a miracle he even managed to be walking and moving like a semi-human – he remembered back in the day, having to be carried out to the infirmary in the mornings, unable to even stand on his feet. It was either a great fortune or a tragedy that his body seemed to have gotten more used to transformations now.

Careless as he was, he didn’t pay any of this situation any mind, for a hot second. Not his raggedy clothes that were three sizes too big and probably made him look like a hag, not the state of his father’s home, not the food that Severus chose to share on the table. He was careless as he sat down on the floor, limbs folding down ungracefully like a puppet crumbling to the ground. His skin felt on fire, as if it had been scrubbed raw, nerve-ends exposed, and feeling the fabric of the couch against it was too painful.

He picked up the bowl and was halfway through scarfing its contents down when he started caring. The soup was much appreciated to a growling, empty stomach, a state of being that Remus hardly even noticed anymore. It warmed up his insides, his hands, it soothed the dull ache on his knuckles. It felt nice. “I can look like death and be focused. I’m multifaceted like that.” He joked defensively, suddenly hyper aware that he must’ve looked like some kind of inhuman wild creature, lit up with bruises, all curled up around a bowl of soup, eating up as if he hadn’t seen food in the last month.

In hopes to regain some of his decency, he wiped at his mouth with the back of a hand and cleared his throat before he spoke again. “My mum used to make chicken soup. When I was sick, I mean. Did Lily tell you about this?” It was simply curiosity nagging at the back of his head, a tongue that found itself without much of a filter in the wake of so many wounds to lick. It’d be a funny coincidence if it hadn’t been Lily’s doing.

The dreaded request came – walk me through it – and Remus shoved another spoonful of soup into his mouth, to avoid answering for just a second longer. “Locked myself up in the cage. Turned.” His eyes focused on a spot on the wall, as he found he felt much less exposed if he didn’t have to look at Severus when he spoke about his turns. “It was… different than last time. Worse. I was aware of everything, had all my senses, but I couldn’t control it. Was like… taking a back seat to a first-person horror show, pretty much.” He knew he’d have to elaborate, bring out the details, Severus was too meticulous with his academic writing to let anything pass. But he took a lingering moment to breathe, and waited for more questions.

Severus waited for Lupin to be ready to speak, eyes taking in the littered bruises and wounds that he could see despite the baggy rumpled clothing. He came prepared with bruise salves and dittany, and made a mental note to produce them later before he left. 

When Lupin did speak it was with a defensive comment. Severus raised an eyebrow, but only to suppress a smile. The werewolf was clearly uncomfortable — as he was in most situations. Lupin seemed to interact with the world around him as if through an ill-fit bodysuit for skin, and it was more pronounced now than when he was surrounded by his friends. It was something that got under Severus’ skin when they were younger, when he looked down on people who couldn’t carry a conversation with confidence. In the past few months, however, Severus had gained a new appreciation for the werewolf’s hidden resilience. Then Lupin spoke about his mum. ‘ No, ’ he said in response to the question. He paused. ‘ My mum made chicken soup, too. When I got sick. She taught me how to … ’ He gestured vaguely with a pen towards the bowl of soup and the sliced loaf of bread. She taught him how to cook and bake, among other things. Some of his fondest memories were atop a stool in the simple kitchen at his Spinner’s End home. It was part of the reason the kitchen saw little to no renovation when Severus reclaimed the property two years ago, despite the rest of the house getting turned on its head.

Severus didn’t look at Lupin directly as he explained what happened. It was a poor attempt at leniency, averting his gaze so as not to lay the full weight of his attention on the man as he struggled to recount the events. They were not friends. But despite the invasive nature of his questions, Severus did not enjoy watching him struggle. He listened attentively. Took notes. When Lupin finished his rather short explanation, Severus pretended to consult his notes for longer to give him a moment to breathe. Then he asked his questions. ‘ Did the sharpness of your senses fluctuate throughout the period of transformation? Could you keep track of time accurately while transformed? And how well do you remember the events of that night? ’ 

[wrongdeor]

elliotofvanity​:

Elliot should have come up with some excuse to, well, to excuse himself; should have retreated and sought Hestia or Wila or someone else who could give him more information; someone who could clarify that Severus Snape really was supposed to be here, with the Order, and why; someone else who had been here longer and could answer impossible questions like what the fucking fuck was Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy’s favorite fuck doing with the Order of the Phoenix? without making things too terribly awkward.

He should have mustered-up some polite nonsense phrase and left.

Instead, when the other wix demanded an explanation, Elliot blurted, “But you’re the Malfoys’ bed-toy,” too shocked to be anything but honest. “You are! Severus Snape. I’ve seen you at a dozen parties.“ He had seen Severus at school, too, but hadn’t paid the quiet, surly, solitary wix nearly as much attention as he had when seeing them waltzed around a ballroom on Lucius Malfoy’s elegant arm, or ensconced in a corner seat with Narcissa giggling gracefully in their ear, or being swept upstairs at the end of the evening by one or both of the fashionable blondes. At school, Severus had been—in their own way—something of a wallflower, too. In the Malfoys’ hands, they had been impossible not to notice.

To see them now…here…none of it made sense. “What are you doing here?”

The boy could’ve said ‘the Dark Lord sent me to kill you’ and it would’ve shocked Severus less. 

He laughed. He couldn’t help it. Bed-toy. He covered his face with his hand to hide his laughter but it was too late. ‘ Well aren’t you bold, ’ said Severus, the corners of his lips stretched in a mischievous smirk. Severus was attentive towards the rumors that sprang in his wake, specifically the ones that followed his appearances with Lucius or Narcissa (or both) and it was not entirely for pragmatic reasons that he did so. After all, the tales that followed him at every society event wouldn’t be half as tall without his own delighted efforts. And the Malfoys’ bed-toy was not only the least offensive but also the least inaccurate. 

People just didn’t usually say it to his face.

He stepped towards the boy, eyes gleaming with interest. ‘ Elliot Vanity, ’ said Severus, stopping right before him, sinking into his mind like a wide net onto dense water. Thoughts jumped to his hands like fish, eager to be caught. ‘ That’s who you are. The newest recruit. ’ He didn’t know what they were thinking, bringing in a pureblood society brat into the fold — didn’t they have enough of those lying about already? — but that was a discussion for later. He shoved the inventory paper at the boy’s chest. ‘ Here’s your first assignment: restock the cabinets, ’ Severus folded his arms and looked at Vanity expectantly. ‘ If you drop one, you’ll get kicked out of the Order. ’ He turned around and walked back towards his satchel of brews. He couldn’t help adding, with a flippant tone, ‘ and just so you know, they’re as much mine as I am theirs. ’ The bedroom was an equal opportunity playground.

[wrongdeor]

healerrosier​:

Miraculously, Evan refrained from rolling his eyes at James’ antics. There was a brief moment where he shared a similar look of disbelief to Severus’ before clearing his throat. “I’ve done what I can do for the time being,” He admitted. “And as much as I would like to properly revive her, I’ll be sparing her and Theodosia from the childish antics.”

He could have said more. Maybe he should have, come to think of it, but Severus had managed to say everything that was running through his mind without being the one to say anything.

Rather than say anything, Evan pressed his tongue against his cheek and shifted his attention to Theodosia and the list the diagnostic spell created. It didn’t matter how many times he ran his gaze over it — the answer was still the same. Not that he expected anything to change, but the information truly couldn’t have come at a worse time.

@perniciouspotter​

Evan answered his question - he’d stabilized Lily, he was doing what he could. Now they had to wait and it wasn’t a good idea to bring her back just to see James doing what he was doing right now anyway. But it wasn’t good enough. James couldn’t stop that racing if his heart - couldn’t help the way his eyes kept going back to her. She looked nearly dead, that gentle rise and fall the only indication that she wasn’t. Was this how she felt, all those months he was gone? Only she couldn’t see him. Didn’t know where he was or if he was alive.

The thought made him worse. Made him angry. Made him mean. He rounded on Severus and the retort from his old enemy came back with such an ease that James knew Snape had been thinking this for ages. He hated how the other wix could peg him so easily. How Severus could read into his mind, his thoughts, his feelings. It wasn’t just magic - it was just the ability of two people who had disliked one another for so many years. They understood each other too well - and that was the problem.

That was how well it could hurt. James didn’t have a retort. There was nothing he could say back to erase what Snape had put out into the world. They said he was nothing but a liability. That he’d done nothing but get in the way, make things harder for people. And all James heard was that he was nothing. Nothing. Nothing to Lily or to his friend or to the Order. And there wasn’t a thing in the world that terrified James Potter more than being nothing.

But instead of stalking away - instead of saying this or talking to someone about it or even just giving up in the face of someone who has suddenly become a better person than him - James threw a fist towards Severus to connect with their jaw.

@wrongdeor

Severus stumbled back as Potter punched him in the face.

He wasn’t shocked, per se — he lit a match into gasoline, he wanted an explosion, to plunge a knife where it hurt the most. And he knew Potter’s weaknesses better than anyone. But this sort of a scuffle hasn’t been common between them in years, even when they argued and butted heads in the meeting room. Not since Potter’s first month back from the grave.

He laughed. ‘ Nothing to say, Potter? Back to the basics with you I see! ’ Severus flicked his wrist and shot a Knock-Back hex at him. It was a schoolyard hex at best, but it seemed appropriate considering who it was.

@healerrosier​

[wrongdeor]

theoselwyn​:

Theo had known that they’d be getting some death eaters. That was a given really. She hadn’t quite been expecting to see the sheer amount that were marching towards them. She had to admit it was strange to think about firing spells at her colleagues. Technically they were, since they were all working for the Dark Lord. But, she was here with the Order and she had to at least fight the Death Eaters. And, to be honest, Theo kind of liked the idea of getting some hits in against Bellatrix.

The moment they’d seen the orders they’d sprung into action. They had too. It was needed. Everything was chaotic, and muggles were running every where. They needed to contain the death eaters as soon as possible. She had no idea where Gideon had gone, but she saw Severus, and she decided to stick close to him. Surely two of them would manage better than just the one.

“We need to take them out.” Because that was what the death eaters would do to them. She fired some spells in the direction of the death eaters, trying to take some of them out. “I know we’re supposed to protect the statue…. but fuck that. We need to save these muggle.” Which was…. an interesting development for Theo. 

Selwyn was a bold fighter, they could give her that. They held off the squadron of Death Eaters long enough for back up to arrive, and while Severus kept half an eye on her and half on their enemies, the barrage of curses and attacks became overwhelming. It didn’t take long for them to fight back to back. For the heavy fire to become too much to fight off.

Selwyn took too many hits and crumpled to the ground abruptly. Severus hesitated before picking up their fallen partner and apparating them both back to HQ for her injuries to be seen to. Lupin and the others would’ve had enough time to get the muggle family out — they have to trust they did just that.

End.

[wrongdeor]

Something wasn’t right, was Moody’s first thought. Something wasn’t right because he’d just vast a quick-healing charm and the blood wasn’t stopping. But, no time to think of that now. He needed to apparate out. If he didn’t they’d –

Two things happened at once. Blood dripdripdripped off Moody’s arms, down his chest, as he stumbled backward. A hand grabbed roughly for his shoulder and then they were gone, the dizziness and the nauseous lurch of an unprepared apparition taking him by surprise. If he’d been of any around mind right now, Alastor would have snapped at the younger wix about being splinched.

Instead, Alastor Moody came out of the apparition and stumbled into an unfamiliar house (not the estate, the woods were wrong and the landing area was different, much like where one could be stretched too thin, like jam across too much toast) in an unfamiliar place (sounds were different, the birds and the creatures outside sounding off like scuttling little things instead of great, gallumping beasts of wizards and witches at all hours of the day and night) and slumped against the wall. When he slides down it, unable to follow behind Snape for fear of falling, there’s a streak of crimson.

“Well. Can’t say ’M all that comfortable,” he rasps out, a shaky laugh, fingers curling unsuccessfully around his bleeding wounds. “Picked up a curse, it seems.”

Severus looked back at the other man’s words. Crimson red painted the wall and dripped a puddle onto the wooden floor. He strode back, knelt beside Moody, and examined the injury that caused the bleeding. A long, crisp line cut from Moody’s chest up to his shoulder. An upward stroke, thinning towards the end, like the tip of a sword. Severus’ lips pressed into a flat, displeased line. ‘ What luck, ’ said Severus. ‘ Don’t pass out before I’m done with you. ’ 

Then Severus began to sing. The counter to Sectumsempra was something he’d mulled over between books on healing and phoenix tears, the incantation lilting with a soft melody as he passed his wand over the injury once, then again, then a third time. The wounds knit themselves together imperfectly, leaving a long scar behind. The dim white light faded from the tip of his wand as the last syllable did. 

He pressed the back of his hand against Moody’s forehead to check his temperature. ‘ Alright, up, ’ said Severus, shifting the other’s arm around his shoulders and hauling him to his feet. Slowly he walked them towards the couch in the living room and laid him down. Severus unbuttoned and discarded his heavy cloak, folding up the sleeves of his shirt as he knelt beside the couch and turned his attention to Moody’s other injuries. ‘ How do you feel? Where else does it hurt? ’ He couldn’t dismiss the image from his mind of Moody standing like a wall against a barrage of curses and spells like he was somehow immune to them. It wasn’t a common sight on missions, at least not before Severus joined the Order and was presented with a range of ridiculous displays of selflessness that were entirely pointless and ill thought out. This was, by far, the most brazen, and the fact that it was on his own account made his stomach turn.

[wrongdeor]

Evan nodded when Severus went on about Theo, face paling. He would have been about to start working on the serious injuries if it weren’t for knowing he had said he would give an update. His gaze stuck to Theo until he reached the point of explaining his next steps in regards to treating Lily.

“Parchment of ailments is in the top drawer of the desk — two pages worth,” He murmured then pointed toward the desk. “London got met with an explosion. Evans appears to have gotten the brunt of it. Phoenix tears have been administered and the broken bones have been reset. I was going to take care of the cosmetic part of things once certain the tears were successful. It’s been about ten minutes since using them.” He pressed his teeth together to suppress the worried look that seemed desperate to appear. “Original plan was to keep her under for the evening to give her body a chance to rest. The tears may accelerate things a little. I’ve only ever used them on external injuries but a few drops by mouth seemed like the best call so I am uncertain of what to expect. If you think there’s something I may have missed… I wouldn’t have suggested switching if I didn’t trust you.”

Anyone but Theodosia being brought in, and he would have let Severus work on them. “She’s stable for now and that’s the most I can ask for. I wouldn’t have been able to move her to St. Mungo’s with the condition she was in when Bones and Lovegood brought her in.”

Severus took the parchment from the drawer and listened intently to Rosier’s updates as he read the report. Again the cold and distant panic beat against his ears from far away as if through a body of water. 

London got met with an explosion. Evans appears to have gotten the brunt of it. 

‘ Phoenix tears, ’ Severus muttered. He looked at Lily, his lips pressed together in a flat line, teeth gritting helplessly. He looked at Rosier as the report wound down and the man said that he trusted Severus. He didn’t miss the hesitance, the unspoken don’t make me regret trusting you that followed the tail end of those words. ‘ Of course, ’ said Severus with a brisk nod. ‘ I’ll keep an eye on her. ’ He moved to her bedside, the parchment crinkling in his hand with how hard he gripped it. 

He cast diagnostic spells of his own, read their results, tracked the progress of the Phoenix tears. He stood rigidly by her bedside, fingertips touching her wrist, feeling for a pulse. He watched and waited. It was all he could do.

End.

[elliotofvanity]

The Peacock’s Pet

LOCATION: Prewett House DATE: June 27th, 1984 @wrongdeor

Elliot opened the door to the kitchen, grimaced, and closed it. He had been trying to find the infirmary (not because he was hurt, but simply as an exercise in navigation), but despite his fervent attempt to memorize the layout of the old Prewett House when Hestia had taken him on the tour yesterday, he couldn’t seem to get it straight in his head now. It was discouraging—or no, he told himself, it wasn’t discouraging, because he refused to let himself be discouraged. It was just…not encouraging. That was all. There was quite a wide gap between encouraged and discouraged, and he was simply neither.

He was still getting his feet under himself, he told himself, and that was fine. That was perfectly expected, perfectly natural. There was a lot to learn, after all, about the Order of the Phoenix. About being part of the Order of the Phoenix. He had only been an official member for two days—a little less than one-and-a-half, really, if you went by the slanting old grandfather clock slumped in the corner—so of course he was still getting his feet under himself. That was nothing to be ashamed of. That was perfectly natural.

None of that stopped him from feeling like he’d fallen right off those feet and into some sort of bizarre dreamscape when he opened the next door down the hallway and saw Severus Snape sitting inside. Elliot’s jaw dropped and absolutely no sound came out of his mouth as he stared—no, gaped—at the other wix in abject stupefaction. He stood in the open doorway for several seconds without moving, without even remembering to breathe, his brain scrabbling desperately as it tried to process what he was seeing.

What in the name of Merlin’s hairiest toes was Lucius and Narcissa Malfoys’ favorite side-piece doing in the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix!?

[wrongdeor]

Severus had spent the last three days brewing batches of dittany and dreamless sleep as well as a number of healing potions to restock the Order’s supply after the disastrous mission last week. He spent his afternoons and some mornings making his way through his less than scrupulous social circles — decidedly more entertaining and, for this particular purpose, useful — sniffing out whatever intel he can find about the whereabouts and activities of his masked friends.

He woke up this morning with instructions to meet the Dark Lord in the evening. Severus couldn’t know if it was for their private lessons, a mission, or something else entirely. He was simply grateful for the early notice. It gave him time to rearrange his schedule and mentally prepare himself. And so here he was, late in the morning stacking vials into the infirmary cupboards when the doors swung open. He looked up from the inventory list in his hand to see a new face standing in the doorway, mouth agape, features twisted into a look of profound shock and paralysis. Severus reached into his pocket for his wand but didn’t take it out. He gave the intruder a moment to gather his wits about him, but the moment dragged on, and it was becoming really quite uncomfortable being on the receiving end of such a face.

‘ What. ’

[regulus-blacked-deactivated2022]

wrongdeor​:

Severus held the other’s gaze as he spoke his name, looking for snippets of memory, a passing thought that would reveal them to be a pretender. There was no distance between the mind he looked into and the name Regulus Black. This was, at worst, someone who fully believed they were the dead Heir of the House of Black. At best —

Doubt, despite itself, dissipated rapidly once Regulus opened his big bloody mouth, and the most ridiculous taunts left his lips. Hm, yes. There he was, the impossible brat. Severus almost grinned, suddenly, but schooled his features back down to impassivity. His shoulders relaxed just a little. 

He raised an eyebrow. ‘ I got sick of being told what to do, ’ Severus said, ‘ and treachery sounded grand. A better question would be why not, really. ’ He waved a hand flippantly. ‘ It goes better with my nature, yes? Halfbloods and their shaky convictions, and all. I suppose your darling Bella was right about me all along. ’

He walked up to the littlest Black, arms crossed, a slight cant to his head. He intended to look menacing, but his guard was down, and his tone was more inquisitive than accusatory: ‘ You, on the other hand, heir to name and to fortune — how does this go with yours? ’ What are you doing here, Regulus?

*

“Oi,” Regulus asked, leaning forward on that couch he’d rather burn than sit on again, “are you in my head?” He looked at the other, scanning their shoulders, their mouth, their general now-lost tension. “You are, aren’t you? You seem very pleased with yourself there, Severus,” Regulus added with a scowl that was patently false in sincerity and transparent to the thing he might label joy beneath it. “Figures you’d go poking.”

Regulus’ head fell back onto the couch, eyes sliding shut against his will yet following it at the same time. The duality of conscious and unconscious desires playing out in that one simple movement. He’d been worried, before, but whatever Severus was here to do, he’d do it without alerting the entire damn estate to it. That was safety enough for Regulus to close his eyes. Not despite Severus, but because of Severus.

“You always were a contrary little bugger,” Regulus agreed. “It was never enough to make one spell, no you had to make, what? Eleven, twelve of the things?” Regulus sighed, rocking his head back and forth on the couch in the best approximation he could of a shake. “Bella did turn out to not be right about much,” Regulus said quietly, “and I don’t think she was right about that.” That was entirely too much honesty for this conversation. Regulus was going to blame the sleep-deprivation if it was brought up.

“Treachery is quite the lark though, I must admit that. Always something done in a flurry of springtime fancy like a Hufflepuff after a pastry. Knees knocking together with the sugar high and excitement of it all.” Regulus shook his head again, choosing honesty, blunt and brittle a tool though it was. “I went researching. Volunteered a friend for something I never should have. Nearly lost him and found more than I should have in those books.”

Cracking open one eye through its leaden weight, Regulus looked at Severus. “I found something out. Something that could be fatal to someone I swore to serve. I nearly died for it and didn’t bother sharing it until now.” That eye closed again. “Don’t go blabbing that around, not even to Evans. Especially not to Evans. Strictly need-to-know, that. Might interfere with my future ambitions if it gets out and then I’d really have to hex you with something you didn’t make up.”

[wrongdeor]

Severus blinked with a ‘who, me?’ look on their face. ‘ I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, ’ said the cat that ate the canary. ‘ You must be exhausted. Being dead for 5 years will do that to you. ’ They were both products of Slytherin House, where privacy was only as respected as the protections around it. If Black wanted to keep his thoughts to himself, well, with due diligence he certainly could.

Severus conjured a desk chair (wheels, armrests, and all) that they dragged closer to the young man before they sat down, legs crossed at the knee, and leaned back. The air shifted palpably in the room, Severus was no longer interrogating a potential threat, they were catching up with an old acquaintance. A corner of their lips lifted at being called contrary, only a little too pleased with themself. ‘ Just twelve, ’ they said, ‘ for now. ’ If Severus dared to dream of what they would do after the war, it was this: make new spells. And potions, and wards, and artifacts. One day they might outweigh the violent magic they’ve written into the world.

If Severus was taken aback by Black’s following confession — and a confession is what it was, quiet and honest, however else Black chose to frame it later — they didn’t show it. Black had stumbled through epiphanies of his own since Severus had last seen him, not unlike the ones Severus had worked through themself to get here. ‘ What a surprise, ’ said Severus, ‘ look who had a change of heart, now. It’s only been 5 years, Black, what happened to you? ’

Severus listened intently as Black spoke. They watched him without blinking as the words sank in. They remained carefully impassive, face empty of all emotion.

I found something out. Something that could be fatal to someone I swore to serve.

For one ferocious moment Severus wanted to pin Black down and empty his mind of all knowledge and memory, comb through his thoughts with tedious care, and pluck it’s secrets out one by one until they found what they were looking for. The moment passed. Reckless, Severus thought. Unlike most of the people they dealt with, Black knew of their Legilimency. A delicate hand was needed.

Severus hummed. ‘ Better late than never, I suppose. Only a few hundred died since your great discovery, but I’m sure you’ll carry their deaths with dignity, and such, and all. ’ They waved a hand to encompass the such and the all. Guilt over strangers did not factor into this at all, Severus suspected. Something happened to someone who mattered to Black, or Black thought it did, or would. That was what sprang the young man from the grave, or else his secrets would’ve died with him. But that was a question for another day. ‘ What did you find? ’

[madeyed-andmoody]

wrongdeor​:

The trip through the private woods was long and tedious, and completely avoidable had Severus been able to replenish his supply of portkeys in time. He was not very athletic — or at all, really — and felt every unnecessary step they took down the woods with deep frustration and exhaustion. Neither of which he showed to his partner, whom he was sure kept one eye on the enemy and one on Severus himself. This mission was a test, and everything he did was, as always, under scrutiny.

A twig snapped. Severus swiveled around on high alert towards the source of the noise, wand at the ready — the weight of hands on his back and shoulder, a twist of fabric — The ground was swept from beneath his feet. Severus blinked. He only had time to be confused before he slammed against the ground a few yards away with a heavy THUD.

He got back up on his feet cursing and huffing and considerably more annoyed than he was only a moment ago. ‘ Fuck off! You bloody brick! ’ He shouted back at the buffoon that threw him across the fucking field, but he was half turned towards the broken arch, wand in motion, spells at the ready. Wards meant to keep people in were only a hair’s breadth away from keeping people out. Severus reached into the edge, plucked its strings, and cast a spell, the incantation rolling off his tongue like water. A long string of latin whispered in gentle, coaxing tones, and the edge of the safety clearing shimmered and expanded it’s scope until it covered both himself and the Auror a few yards behind. It would keep their enemies outside of the dome. But more importantly, Severus and Moody can apparate out.

‘ NOW, ’ shouted Severus over his shoulder. ‘ We have thirteen seconds! ’ Moody had to apparate first, if Severus left the spell would break and the safety border would snap right back into shape.

@wrongdeor​

Alastor probably should have been concerned about how easily Severus was thrown halfway across the field. At the back of his mind, perhaps he was. The forefront, however, was focused on the shadowed figures of who he figured were Goyle and a handful of his cronies coming to see them off. Such sweethearts, they were. 

He waited a few beats, listening for Severus, before laughing to himself. A bloody brick, indeed. He had been a beater, after all. It was rather similar, wasn’t it?, protecting your partner from an attack just as you would a teammate? Alastor took a strategic step backward, dodging another hex before tossing off a rather peevish Confrigo, hoping that it stuck and tossed bits of Goyle to Morgana’s tits and back. He continued to toss off attack after attack, keeping the Death Eaters at bay. 

Behind him, he could hear Severus muttering, working to undo the wards long enough to, hopefully, get them out sooner rather than later. He was bloody good at it, Alastor knew, which was why Snape had been brought with him. That, and it was a test, but the former was far more important now.

Snape’s shouted command, the detail of thirteen seconds, and Moody’s distinct knowledge that he was the one who needed to apparate first caused him to back almost completely toward his field partner. It also caused, for a split second, the shields to slip. In that moment, a curse ricocheted through, slamming half into Alastor’s chest and the forearms he’d raised in preparation. 

Stumbling backward with a grunt, Moody caught himself and threw a stupefy and a finger-removal hex one after the other, snarling against the burning wounds, blood dripping down his arms and his chest. 

[wrongdeor]

The crack of apparition didn’t come. The seconds marched on: 9, 8, 7 —- Severus turned towards his field partner. Moody was covered in blood and slinging hexes at the enemy, with no signs of slowing down or getting the fuck out of here like he was supposed to — was he delirious? Did he hear a word Severus said? — 4, 3, 2 —-

The translucent dome shivered against the night sky. Severus clapped a hand over Moody’s shoulder, and apparated to the first place he could think of.

The damp air of the forest slid away, a shift of colors and sound. In a blink, they were in the still and dry air of Spinner’s End, where the wards were thick and hostile and the smell of dry wood and hellebore filled their lungs. The fireplace crackled on beneath the sudden silence, unstartled.

Of course, Severus thought with deep bitterness. Of all the places that could spring to mind in a moment of danger it was this. Home.

Still. He supposed it was lucky they sprang into the living room rather than the single bedroom upstairs where he hid when he was little. This was uncomfortable enough as it was. ‘ Don’t get comfortable, ’ he barked at his companion, ‘ We’re leaving. ’ He began his march towards the entrance hall, where the wards wouldn’t rip Moody’s flesh from his bones upon apparating out for daring to intrude. Severus had no intention of performing another Side-Along again, he was rather annoyed with Moody for not apparating out himself the moment he was told to.

[healerrosier]

Evan & @wrongdeor (@asphodelroot & @theoselwyn referenced) June 24, 1984 - Infirmary roughly a minute and a half after Theo got brought in

Evan could handle chaos. It was part of his day job so handling injuries after the mission shouldn’t have felt nearly as exhausting as it did. Not even two full teams back and he was already dealing with one person in critical condition and the rest of the team having come back concussed or worst. He would owe a thank you to Emmeline later since she was doing a phenomenal job at going back and forth between people. She had better bedside manner than his own but he had the excuse of worrying about multiple people if it came to someone complaining to Hestia or Alastor. At the end of the day, he cared about no one dying more than being viewed as the friendly healer putting up with being sworn at, screamed at, or both.

He had been about to take a seat and catch his breath for a moment when Severus came in with someone, merely earning an arched brow and a groan before he shifted his attention from Lily to the two.

“Status update?” He asked, expression faltering upon realizing who the person Severus had laid out on the one empty cot was. “Fucking hell, shit-” Evan snapped his mouth shut to avoid saying anything more unintelligible than that, pinching the bridge of his nose before he spoke again. “Theodosia. We- Can I switch with you? I’ve got Lily and will update you once you update me.”

[wrongdeor]

Severus made his way to the infirmary at a brisk stride, Selwyn’s blood soaking through his robes and arms by the time he stepped into the room. The battle was not what any of them had expected, and the trickle of suspicion he’d felt prior to being dispatched was regrettably well placed.

Severus weaved his way through the chaos of the infirmary after a mission and found the empty cot, where he placed Selwyn carefully and cast a spell to check her vitals.

Rosier cursed. Severus looked up — and his eyes snagged on a flash of bright red hair. His breath hitched like he was punched in the throat. ‘ Yes, ’ he said quickly, and rattled off Selwyn’s vitals and the injuries she’d sustained in the battlefield that he knew of, making his way over to the other cot. ‘ What happened to her?! ’ He barked, standing over Lily’s cot. There was a peculiar clarity amidst the panic. It was him, and Rosier, and Lily, and the cold claw of fear that sunk itself down his spine and spread through him. Everything else dissolved into white noise.

[madeyed-andmoody]

DOCTOR, DOCTOR

WHEN. june 25, super fucking early WHERE. prewett estate infirmary WHO. @wrongdeor

When Alastor and Gideon apparated back to headquarters, Moody was limping. He took one step, and then a second, and the pain that burned in his leg accompanied the throbbing in his head and the burning at his side quite nicely. They worked, one right along with the other, to make his body scream at him. He'd known he'd been hit, too, and he figured Gideon had seen at least the thing that'd hit him in the head. At the other man's urging he dragged his sorry carcass to the infirmary.

What he found was utter chaos, and Alastor nearly turned right back around and walked out again. He could fix his own bloody knee and his own bloody aches and pains. Evan was busy, Emmeline was too. Daisy was running about looking worried. There were too many people, and Moody drew himself inward, not wanting to be touched for fear it would spark more pain. If he did, he knew that he'd snap at someone about it. He never had been a good patient.

Moody had slunk half out of the room already before he was caught out, though, and he knew without looking who it was that'd done it. He felt, for what it was worth, like a young lad caught for trying to sneak out past curfew and wasn't that just off?

"'M fine. Don't need you or any of the others worryin' about my sorry arse," he said, voice gruff and low, holding himself with his shoulders drawn taut, favoring his left leg because the other was dragging a bit. "Can fix it myself. You've too many."

[wrongdeor]

Severus watched Moody drag his injured leg about like an empty sack, barking orders and checking on people and asking questions the moment he crossed the entrance. Then holding a bloody meeting with his leg hanging about rather awkwardly as it waited to be seen to. The only reason Severus didn’t drag the ridiculous man to the infirmary himself was because he was too busy to leave the infirmary —- well. No. Not so busy as that … but the thought of leaving the room when Lily was in the state she was in sent a chill down his spine, a feeling of such inevitable doom that he wouldn’t dare risk it. And so he didn’t.

But Moody slunk into the infirmary like a mouse into it’s trap. Before he could escape, Severus pounced. ‘ You’re fine when I say you’re fine, ’ Severus intoned, and waved his wand. The doors to the infirmary swung shut with an ominous click. He gestured towards the side door that led to a smaller room with the extra cot and armchair. ‘ Sit down, ’ he said. Gaze dropped deliberately towards Moody’s bad knee. ‘ That poor leg will thank you for it. ’

[wrongdeor]

@asphodelroot

Early January, 1984. Spinner’s End.

The air was damp with the January rain, pouring over the streets of Cokeworth in relentless sheets. The windows of the old house were shut and sealed, the four walls wrapped in wards and heating spells. Brick and mortar didn’t hold magic the way old stone or pine wood did, and so the cold seeped through the cracks as it pleased, slow and unbothered.

When Severus claimed this house after his father’s passing, he’d done so with a bitter heart. He resented needing anything from his father, in life or in death, but by then he was tired of the bare room above the apothecary and had grown wise to the need for distance, for a space beyond the prying eyes of his Master. Thus it came to be that only three years after his dignified march out of Spinner’s End, bursting with pride and purpose, Severus found himself slipping back into his old home, silent as shame, even as the only witness to this humiliation was himself.

And now Lily, too. Who once was witness to all that Severus is and was and could be, thus it seemed fitting that she’d reclaim that role upon re-entering his life.

He set the pot of lentil soup upon the wooden coffee table, along the plate of cut bread, and poured a bowl for himself and another for Lily. They’d spent all morning and afternoon in the library beneath the house, pouring over books and spells as the row of cauldrons sizzled and rolled over a low fire. The scent of hellebore and rosemary drifted up to the living room. The fire crackled on in the quiet room.

He sat on the couch beside her and brought his knees up to his chest. He shook pepper onto his bowl and then lifted the shaker to his friend. ‘ Pepper? Or salt? ’

[perniciouspotter]

healerrosier​:

wrongdeor​:

Let’s switch, said Rosier, and handed him a diagnostics paper and rattled off a list of instructions. Severus looked at the bed and rocked back on his heels, suddenly, like taking a physical blow. He’d fallen from a tree once, when he was young, twenty feet down and it knocked all the air from his lungs. The memory resurfaced unprompted, an echo of this moment, and he tried to take a deep breath. Then he took one step, two steps, and stood by Lily’s bedside.

His hand reached out carefully to touch her wrist, felt the faint pulse in her veins, and watched the air expand and expel from her lungs. For what felt like eternity, Severus stood like this, still as a statue. Waiting for signs she was getting worse. Bruised lungs. Internal bleeding. Broken collarbone. The list of diagnostics went on an endless loop in his mind —

Potter burst into the infirmary, a whirlwind of self important rage and childish animosity. Severus was yanked away by his bloody collar, and it was a testament to his current state of mind that it took him a moment to return to the present. To feel the anger light a fire in his gut. To think, who the fuck do you think you are?! Before he grabbed the front of Potter’s robes and slammed him against the wall of the infirmary, hard enough to rattle the shelves. ‘ Be quiet, ’ Severus said, a soft, quiet tone that belied the violence simmering underneath. ‘ Or get out. This is an infirmary, you fucking delinquent. Who do you think you are? ’

@healerrosier 

____________

Things were going fine with the addition of Theo added into the mix of patients he had to deal with. Evan could manage his emotions well enough in front of Severus and unconscious Lily and Theo. That much was a given even though he was truly ready to find some place to go scream as a way of letting go of some of his pent up anxious energy and make it clear that his trying to think everything was fine was totally ineffective.

He hesitated when it came to casting the diagnostic spell, not used to seeing Theo look so fragile. One deep breath in an attempt at keeping the nervousness pooling in his stomach at bay then he cast it. A rather alarmed “What the fuck? That can’t be right,” escaped from his lips mere seconds before James arrived.

Evan released an exasperated sigh and raised an eyebrow at the two. Unexpectedly and unsurprisingly, a scuffle — he would label it as such for now — ensued and he was left throwing a look of disappointment at the two. Disappointed yet not bothered enough to reach for his wand and properly threaten to separate them. He wouldn’t admit it but the change of pace and something else to focus on was a welcome distraction. “Be careful of the shelves,” Evan winced. “Severus said it better than I would have, James. My usual reminder that I will not be healing either of you if it comes down to injuring yourselves over…” He trailed off a moment and made a face. “Whatever this is. This is hardly the behavior Theo or Lily would approve of given the circumstances.” @perniciouspotter

As quickly as James had gotten the upperhand, he lost it. Suddenly, Severus was on him, pulling him by the scruff of his shirt to be slammed against the wall. James let out a short, pained breath as the weight of it hit him, his wrist suddenly throbbing even though it hadn’t bothered him all day. He took Snape’s insult as a hypothetical question and shoved at their hand until he was pushing it aside.

“Get the fuck off me,” he said, not quiet as requested and quite hypocritically. James turned his head to look at Evan, narrowing his eyes. Of course they’d bloody well stick together. James almost retorted who gives a fuck about what Theo thinks? back to him, but that was a surefire way to get him kicked out, so he just righted himself and glared at both wix before stepping around Severus, shoving their shoulder on the way despite himself.

Hey, at least he was being quiet now? He stopped short a moment later as his eyes caught with Lily’s body in the infirmary cot. She looked bruised and body and fragile in a way he’d never seen before. His hands started shaking and he could feel that lump in his throat again. He swallowed, pushed it back - he would not fucking cry here, not with Snape standing a foot away - and let that now-familiar rage take over.

He rounded on Evan. “What the fuck are you just standing there for? Aren’t you going to help her?” He looked back at Severus. “And you - if you’re so fucking perfect, so- so capable that you can murder Muggleborns and then be fucking welcomed into the Order after, why don’t you do something!” She was going to die, she was going to die, oh fuck was she going to die?

@wrongdeor​

[wrongdeor]

Severus let Potter push his hand off, taking a step back himself and setting his collar back to rights. He glared at Rosier when he mentioned Lily, lips curling in pure disgust at being chastised using her name, before he looked away. He merely scoffed and rolled his eyes when Potter pushed past him, he resolved not to be provoked into another physical altercation, once had already been enough.

Then Potter rounded on him. Looking for someone to blame, to fight, to lash out on. Severus stepped into the role like it was made for him.

He turned to Evan and gave him a commiserating look, as if to say, ‘Can you believe this guy?’ And turned back to Potter like a shark that scented blood. ‘ Ah, that still bothers you, doesn’t it? That I was welcomed into the fold and yet you still struggle to find your place again months after your miraculous return to your people! But you can’t possibly be welcomed when all you’ve done is pick fights and throw temper tantrums like a child, yes?’ Head cocked to the side, Severus approached his opponent in slow and measured steps, the corners of his lips lifted slightly in a sharp smirk. Repressed rage beat against his chest in a steady thrum. ‘ You’ve been nothing but a liability. You’ve done nothing but get in everyone’s way. You’re difficult, and you make things difficult. Everyone here is busy or injured, but we’ve all got to stop whatever we’re doing because James Bloody Potter has to process his feelings first! ’

@healerrosier

[perniciouspotter]

Date: June 24th, 1984, just after leaving the Entry Room Location: The Prewett Estate, infirmary  @wrongdeor & @healerrosier

James moved quickly from his argument - possible argument? - with Jones down the corridor to the infirmary. Lily, fuck, Lily. She could be dead. She could be dying. He couldn’t fucking believe that he’d let her end them when he knew it might end up like this between them and they’d be left with nothing but tainted memories. He could’ve had four more months with her. Damn it, Lily.

He was angry and tired and so, so fucking terrified. But he was also keeping his cool, Hestia’s words about how blowing up wouldn’t help him - how Evan wouldn’t let him stay - ringing through his ears. And, by the time he made it to the infirmary, he was almost calm. Almost ready to sit by her bedside and stay out of Rosier’s way.

Until - 

Fucking Severus Snape. As though he was the dragon he’d conjured earlier that morning, James roared with life, a sudden energy renewed in him. Because Snape was standing over Lily’s bedside. Snape was watching her, making sure she had an even rise and fall of her chest. “You!” James snarled, that simmering rage rearing it’s ugly head as he moved over to Severus and yanked on the collar of his shirt, pulling him back, away from Lily. “Get the fuck away from her!”

[wrongdeor]

Let’s switch, said Rosier, and handed him a diagnostics paper and rattled off a list of instructions. Severus looked at the bed and rocked back on his heels, suddenly, like taking a physical blow. He’d fallen from a tree once, when he was young, twenty feet down and it knocked all the air from his lungs. The memory resurfaced unprompted, an echo of this moment, and he tried to take a deep breath. Then he took one step, two steps, and stood by Lily’s bedside.

His hand reached out carefully to touch her wrist, felt the faint pulse in her veins, and watched the air expand and expel from her lungs. For what felt like eternity, Severus stood like this, still as a statue. Waiting for signs she was getting worse. Bruised lungs. Internal bleeding. Broken collarbone. The list of diagnostics went on an endless loop in his mind —

Potter burst into the infirmary, a whirlwind of self important rage and childish animosity. Severus was yanked away by his bloody collar, and it was a testament to his current state of mind that it took him a moment to return to the present. To feel the anger light a fire in his gut. To think, who the fuck do you think you are?! Before he grabbed the front of Potter’s robes and slammed him against the wall of the infirmary, hard enough to rattle the shelves. ‘ Be quiet, ’ Severus said, a soft, quiet tone that belied the violence simmering underneath. ‘ Or get out. This is an infirmary, you fucking delinquent. Who do you think you are? ’

@healerrosier 

[wrongdeor]

@theoselwyn​

June 24th, 1984. Liverpool.

The wail of the amulets cut through the quiet afternoon like a sword. There was a split second of silence when the three of them exchanged looks, then — with a pop, Severus was on the other side of the house where Prewett and Selwyn were and where the signal was coming from.

Where’s Prewett, Severus thought, seeing the squadron of Death Eaters plow their way through the street, heedless of the attention they were getting from the gathering crowd. One of the masked figures stepped forward and sent a curse out flying towards a bystander — the muggle dropped on the spot and didn’t move. It didn’t take long for the crowd to descend into chaos, people running in every direction as the Death Eaters continued their march. 

There was no time to find Prewett. They jumped into the fray without a second thought.

[wrongdeor]

melancolialunar​:

Muggle London did have a false sense of security to it, but unlike Severus, Remus found himself leaning into it, these days. He was the type of man to let himself indulge in the fantasy, even if just for a moment – sure, retreating back to reality ended up being a bucket of cold water, but he was nothing if not used to this sort of muted agony in his life. Perhaps there was something of self-penitence there too, letting himself pretend he could ever be just another bloke sitting at a coffee shop thinking about what he was going to have for lunch, before returning to the ice cold brutality of being a werewolf stuck in the middle of a war.

He watched his companion sit down, making themselves the spitting image of something comfortable, though Remus could imagine that there was some level of tension under their skin. There was no way Severus would trust him so blindly – and they were right, this was the whole point of this encounter.

“That’s exactly why I asked you to meet me, anyway. I mean– old time’s sake.” He echoed, hand idly moving over to wrap around his cup of cappuccino, even though he had no intention of having a sip from it now. It was just something for his hands to do, something he could focus his eyes on, as if the back and forth swirl of the warm liquid required his attention more than the person in front of him.

He cleared his throat, silently cursed the pregnant pause hanging in the air, before turning his eyes back up to Severus in the hopes of not looking like a total coward when he spoke next. “I want to apologise.”

Severus blinked silently for a long and still moment, then hummed curiously, head tilted back. The crackle of anger flared instantly, like a hot sun burst into furious existence deep in their belly. Their jaw tensed with the effort to keep themself contained. ‘ How unexpected, ’ they finally said, when the ringing in their ears settled down some. They leaned forward and picked up a scone in a careless manner, hummed again, elbows on the table, one hand under their chin, thoughtful. ‘ How very surprising, ’ they repeated. A beat of silence. ‘ You think I’ll poison you? Yes? With the wolfsbane? ’ It wasn’t an unappealing prospect. But it was more trouble than it was worth. Severus had long since entertained and discarded the idea, so Lupin’s concerns weren’t completely misplaced, at least. ‘ If that was my intention, Lupin, and this was your attempt to stop me, it was a useless one. And about a decade late, besides. ’ 

They waved the hand with the scone about with a flourish. ‘ But go on now, ’ they said. Their manner was flippant, but their whole focus was now hefted upon Lupin, the heavy unnamed pressure of being pinned by the eyes of a predator. There was no right answer to what Severus was asking. They watched for something to lunge at, and whatever Lupin said next, they would find it. ‘ Don’t let me stop you! What’ve you got to say for yourself? ’